


Auld Lang Syne

by BuckinghamAlice



Series: Spending Holidays with the SuperBats [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, New Year's Eve, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 17:56:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckinghamAlice/pseuds/BuckinghamAlice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Clark asks Bruce out, Bruce ends up being surprisingly romantic... twice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Auld Lang Syne

**Author's Note:**

> Can easily be read as a sequel to [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1096756/chapters/2206872), though having read that isn't necessary to follow this piece.

It was December 28th, and Clark had been working up his courage since Christmas Eve to ask Bruce to go to the League’s New Year’s Eve party with him.  They’d only actually been a _thing_ for a couple of weeks, so they weren’t yet at the point in their relationship where he could just _assume_ they’d spend that holiday or any other together.  And things were further complicated by the fact that Bruce didn’t exactly look forward to most holidays.

These things considered, Clark wasn’t at all sure that Bruce would agree to go to the party with him.  But he realized time was wearing thin, and he’d never know if he didn’t ask, so when they were at the Watchtower on monitor duty together on that December 28th, he smiled and leaned a little closer to very casually ask, “You know that party they’re throwing for New Year’s Eve?  How would you like to go with me?”

Bruce paused for a moment and looked up at Clark’s expectant face.  Then, seemingly trying very hard to keep his voice even, he simply said, “No, I would not.”

Clark nodded.  He wasn’t sure whether Bruce objected to the party or to going to it with him… but either way, he felt his stomach drop down to his red boots.  “Oh,” he managed to say.  Then, recovering his smile, he added, “That’s fine.  I mean, it is short notice and everything…”

“I… I’m going on patrol that evening,” Bruce replied softly, glancing back to the screen before him.  “Otherwise… I might.”  Clark smiled softly and gave a weak nod, but said nothing.  After all, there was nothing much to say.  Knowing that Bruce _might_ have agreed to spend the holiday with him made him feel a bit better… but not as good as he’d have felt if Bruce had said yes.

 

Several hours later, after Wally and Shayera had relieved them of their monitor duties, Clark was in his room, preparing to head home when he heard someone at the door.  He had just gotten out of the shower, so all he was wearing was a towel wrapped around his waist. 

He opened the door to find Bruce standing there, still in his batsuit.  Bruce cleared his throat and removed his cowl, like a proper gentleman taking off his hat to pay a call on the person he was courting.  Clark tried to hide his smile as it became clear that Bruce was trying not to look at his almost bare body, his eyes flicking down to Clark’s waist and quickly back up to his eyes.

“Is there something I can do for you?” Clark asked, not bothering to hide the suggestive tone in his voice.

Bruce rolled his eyes.  “I was simply going to ask you if you had any plans the night _before_ New Year’s Eve?”

Clark thought for a moment.  “I don’t think so.  Why do you ask?”

“I thought that you might like to come over… to my house, that is… and celebrate… the new year,” Bruce said, almost stumbling over the words.  “Unless that sounds perfectly ridiculous to you… because it sounds a bit ridiculous to _me_ , now that I’ve said it out loud.”

Clark grinned.  Bruce didn’t often invite him over for romantic sounding occasions.  This was very unlike him… in a very good way.  “No, no… that sounds great,” he replied.  “I’d like that… very much.”

“Good,” Bruce said with a nod and the slightest of smiles, visibly heaving a sigh of relief.  “I trust eight o’clock will work for you schedule?”  Clark smiled and nodded, so Bruce continued, “Good.  Very good.  I’ll see you then.”

“If not sooner,” Clark said with a nod.

“Right,” Bruce replied.  Clark smiled after him as he walked away, and once he was back behind a closed door, he did a little dance and almost lost the towel around his waist.

 

Two evenings later, Clark showed up at the manor in his best blue suit – the properly fitting one he reserved specifically for going out with Bruce.  Alfred let Clark in the main entrance, and several minutes later Bruce came in from his study wearing black pants, a white dress shirt, and a pin striped vest.

“You look nice,” Clark said with a smile.  “Very nice.”

Bruce smirked.  “So do you.”  Then he extended his hand to Clark and said, “Come with me.”

Clark took the proffered hand and smiled. “Come with you where?”

“You’ll see,” Bruce answered.  “Just… come on.”  Bruce led Clark upstairs to the second floor and to a large room in the west wing that Clark had never seen.  When Bruce flipped on a light switch, Clark saw that the only furnishings in the room were a couch, a couple of chairs, a coffee table, and an Oriental rug on the floor.  But the wall facing outside was a very large, full length plate glass window.  The view outside was a blanket of velvet blackness, dotted with bright stars.

“Wow,” Clark breathed as Bruce opened the curtains.  “I had no idea the view was so clear from here.  It’s… lovely.”

“Yes,” Bruce said, almost in a sigh, as he looked at Clark rather than out the window.  “It is.”  With a soft smile, he took Clark’s hand and pulled him a few steps to his left, right underneath a sprig of fresh, but slightly wilted, mistletoe that was hanging from the high ceiling.  Bruce looked up above them and simple stated, “Why, look… mistletoe.”

Clark grinned.  “Well, I guess we have to kiss now.”

“I suppose we should,” Bruce replied, his eyes slowly drifting closed as he leaned in.  Clark met him in the middle and pressed a kiss to his lips, soft and chaste at first, but deeper and more passionate after a moment.  He locked his fingers with Bruce’s and didn’t let go once their lips parted.

“Lucky thing that was there,” Clark said with a playful smile.

Bruce shook his head.  “Luck had nothing to do with it… Alfred was being considerate and took down most of the Christmas decorations two days ago.  I had to dig that out of the trash.”

“You didn’t need to dig through trash just so you could kiss me,” Clark said, eyebrow quirked curiously.

Bruce let go of Clark’s hands and shrugged.  Clark thought he might follow the gesture with some comment, probably a sarcastic one, but he said nothing.  Instead, he turned to the coffee table and pulled two bottles out of the large champagne bucket sitting there.  He then snapped his fingers once, as if he’d forgotten something, and walked out of the room.  Clark stood and waited until he came back, several minutes later, with two champagne flutes in his hands.

“Pick your poison,” Bruce began.  “We’ve got a Krug Clos Du Mesnil 1995, and a Martinelli’s Sparkling Cider.”

Clark smiled.  “You bought sparkling cider for me?”

“How do you know it wasn’t for me?” Bruce asked, voice surprisingly playful.

“Well, we’ve got time,” Clark began.  “We can both have sparkling cider and some of that champagne that I’m going to pretend I don’t know the exorbitant price of.”

Bruce shook his head.  “I bought that champagne like two years ago.  It cost about twenty-five or thirty percent less at that time than it does now.”  He thought for a moment.  “How about we save that for midnight and we crack open the other right now?”  Clark smiled and nodded his agreement, so Bruce opened the sparkling cider and poured two glasses. 

“So what were you saving that champagne for?” Clark asked.  “Anything… special?”

“You want me to say I was saving it to drink with you,” Bruce commented.

Clark casually sipped the sparkling cider Bruce had handed him and shrugged.  “Only if it’s true.”  Bruce gave him a glance that plainly said he was being silly and asking silly questions, so he said nothing else.  Bruce went and sat on the couch and just gazed out at the starry night and Clark came and sat next to him.  They just sat there for a while, calm and quiet, and watched the stars.  Even considering the fact that Bruce wasn’t a talkative man, they rarely had quiet and they almost never had calm, so that was welcome to them both.

Eventually, however, Bruce turned to Clark and had a critical expression on his face when he asked, “So what else do people do when they spend New Year’s Eve together?”

Clark smiled.  “Haven’t you ever had a date for New Year’s Eve before?”

“Sure,” Bruce said, shrugging.  “But never before with someone I actually…”

“Someone you actually like,” Clark supplied with a grin, edging a little closer.  Bruce grumbled, so Clark gave him a peck on the cheek.  “But I don’t know,” he continued.  “You go to parties, usually.  But since we’re not doing _that_ , I guess we just have champagne toasts and watch the ball drop… which I guess we can’t do since that’s tomorrow night.  Oh, and we sing ‘Auld Lang Syne.’”

“Oh, no,” Bruce replied.  “I don’t sing.”

“You sing beautifully,” Clark protested.

Bruce snorted a laugh.  “I never said I couldn’t sing.  I said I _don’t_ sing… which means I will avoid it at all costs.”  Then he looked at Clark.  “And besides, listen to the lyrics… why would anyone want to sing a song like that with someone they’re involved with?”

“You only know the first verse then,” Clark replied.  “We used to sing the whole thing in Boy Scouts… it may start with the whole ‘should old acquaintance be forgot’ bit, but it goes on to say that they shouldn’t.  The two old friends in the song talk about drinking together and running around together and paddling upstream together.  It’s quite nice.”

Bruce looked at him incredulously.  “You would know the whole song.”

Clark shrugged.  “I’m surprised you don’t.”

Bruce smiled softly.  “I wasn’t a Boy Scout.”  Coming a little closer, he said, “How does it end?  Sing the song.”

“No,” Clark said with a little laugh.  “You’ve got me feeling a little self-conscious.”

“Then tell me,” Bruce replied.  “I could look it up, but I’d just as soon have you tell me.”

Clark held his hand out towards Bruce.  “‘And there’s a hand my trusty friend.’”  Bruce just looked at Clark’s hand and then up at his smiling face.  “‘And give me a hand o’ thine,’” Clark continued, and Bruce took his hand.  “‘And we’ll take a right good-will draught, for Auld Lang Syne.’” They clinked their glasses together and sipped their sparkling cider.

“Touching,” Bruce said, only sounding a little bit sarcastic.  Clark had to laugh.  They slipped back into a pleasant silence, side by side now.

“So,” Clark began after a few minutes, setting his glass aside, “How come you were able to take tonight off of patrol but you wouldn’t have been able to take tomorrow off?”

Bruce furrowed his brow and looked away from Clark.  Letting go of Clark’s hand, he said, “Holidays are big nights for crime.”  Then, with a little nod, he asked, “Why was it so important to you that we spend tomorrow night together?”

Clark shrugged.  “I don’t know.  It’s just this old saying – a superstition.  They say that the person you’re with on New Year’s, the one you kiss at midnight, is the person you’re going to spend your year with.”

Bruce said nothing, and for a moment Clark worried that he had scared him with what he said, that maybe it sounded too serious.  But after a second or two, Bruce pulled out his phone and began looking something up, so Clark focused on that instead.

“What are you doing?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

But Bruce looked at him as if that was about the silliest question he’d ever heard.  “I’m getting the video from the ball dropping in Time’s Square last year.  I was going to wait until midnight and show you on the big screen in the projection room, but we’re going to watch it now.”

“Okay,” Clark replied, almost laughing.  “But why so early?”

Bruce scooted closer and pressed play.  The countdown began.  10, 9, 8.  “Because we’re going to bed.”

5, 4.  “Oh,” Clark replied.  2, 1.  The tune of “Auld Lang Syne” played on the video as Bruce pulled Clark in for a kiss.  They both scrambled to their feet, Bruce grabbed the bottle of champagne, and they went up to his bedroom on the third floor.

 

When Alfred came to wake Master Bruce in the morning, he was greeted with a fairly unattractive sight.  Bruce and Clark were both still sound asleep in the bed, Clark on his stomach with his hand hanging down to the floor and Bruce with his head resting on Clark’s bare back, mouth open and snoring.  He had a thick, black blindfold tied on his face and his hair was sticking out in every direction.  On the floor was a trail of clothes leading from the doorway to the bed.  The champagne bottle was also on the floor, and in front of it was a slightly damp spot in the carpet where at least part of the bottle had spilled.  One of the champagne flutes was sticking out from under the bed, and there was a jar of Nutella (that Alfred hadn’t even known was in the house) near the foot of the bed.

“What in heaven’s name did you two deviants get up to in here last night?” Alfred asked, picking up Bruce’s shirt.  Then, shaking his head, “Actually, I believe this may be one time I would be better off not knowing.”  He turned away and added, “And you may clean this room yourselves,” before walking out.

“Was that Alfred?” Bruce grumbled sleepily, pulling the blindfold up over one eye.

Clark yawned.  “Yeah.”

“Did I hear him correctly?” Bruce asked.

“Uh huh,” Clark responded.  “You did.”

 

Later, when they were both showered, dressed, and had coffee in them, Clark gave Bruce a peck on the cheek and said, “I’m gonna have to run.  But I’ll see you tomorrow?”

But Bruce wrinkled his nose.  “You say I work too much but you’re going to work on New Year’s Eve.”

“It’s not like I have a date or anything,” Clark replied, eyebrow raised.

Bruce rolled his eyes.  “So you’re not planning on letting that go.”

“Not as long as it keeps getting a reaction from you,” Clark replied, giving Bruce one more peck on the cheek.  “But yes or no… tomorrow?”

Bruce sighed.  “Yes.”

“Good,” Clark replied, leaving the room.  Bruce rolled his eyes again, but he smiled as soon as he thought Clark wouldn’t see him (but he did… he always did).

 

After work that day, Clark flew to Smallville.  When Bruce had said he wouldn’t go to the party with him, Clark had asked Kara to tag along.  He came to pick her up, his father smiled and clapped him on the back.  “It’s real good of you to take your cousin to this party, son,” Jonathan said.  “This really means a lot to her.”

Clark smiled.  “I like spending time with her.”

Jonathan nodded.  “Good.  You should… she’s a good girl.”

“I know, Pa,” Clark replied quietly.  Just then, Kara appeared at the top of the staircase wearing a red shimmery dress with a skirt that twirled out into a bell when she spun around, which she did once she saw her cousin.  “Pretty spiffy, huh?” she asked.  “Ma helped me sew it myself.”

“ _You_ made _that_?” Clark asked incredulously.  Martha must have done more than just help.

Martha smiled.  “Now, you hush, son.  Kara made this dress all on her own, and she looks beautiful.  Tell her she looks beautiful.”

“You do,” Clark said with a smile.  “You look amazing… I’m going to have to stand guard to make sure some man doesn’t steal you away from me.”

“Attaboy, son,” Jonathan said, clapping his hands together once.

She rolled her eyes.  “Gee, thanks a lot, Cuz.”

Martha took this moment to pull out her Polaroid camera and take a picture of Kara.  “Oh, that’ll be so pretty,” she said.  “Let me get just one more.  And then one of Clark, and then one of the two of you together.” 

“You act as if I’m going to prom or something,” Kara said with a laugh, striking a couple of model poses as Martha snapped away.  “And speaking of which, isn’t it kind of sad that you couldn’t get a date so you’re taking your cousin?”

Clark rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, yeah.  Do you want to go or not?”  He smiled for his picture.

Kara came and posed beside him and said, “Of course I do.  I’m just messing with you.”

“Then come on, _Cuz_ ,” Clark said with a smile.

They traveled together to the Watchtower and found that the party was already in full swing.  Clark felt Kara tense just a little beside him, so he put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile.

But it didn’t take her long to forget her nerves.  She had eggnog and punch and danced with everyone, circulated and made the rounds, and got invitations to come and stay a weekend in almost every city the League represented.  It was good, Clark decided, that he had invited Kara.  Because sometimes she still seemed like a sad and angry teenage girl that he had no idea how to handle, but times like this, she seemed so normal and happy and perfect-the-way-she-is that he couldn’t help but smile. 

But almost the only times he did smile for most of the party were times when he saw Kara enjoying herself.  While she had a perfectly lovely time, Clark just had… an _okay_ time.  He wasn’t exactly unhappy… and he wasn’t have a bad time, but he just didn’t feel right.  He was with his friends, so he knew he shouldn’t have been so mopey, but the truth was that he wished Bruce was there, and no amount of fun music, festive atmosphere, cookies, and Jell-o shots could do much to improve his mood.

As midnight came closer, he was thinking about leaving early, but when he glanced at Kara and saw again what fun she was having, talking and laughing with Wally and Dick, he decided he could stick it out.  It didn’t seem fair to drag Kara home early just because he felt bad about not having anyone to kiss at midnight.

It wasn’t as if he was the only person there without a real date, and he and Bruce had already celebrated together (quite a lot, truth be told), but that didn’t change the fact that he wished…

His wish came true.

Clark looked up just in time to see Bruce, in his Batsuit, walk into the room.  A little smile spread across Clark’s face as Bruce made his way across the room.

“What are you doing here?” Clark asked.

Bruce sighed.  “I know you, Clark.  I’m never going to hear the end of it if I don’t give you your New Year’s kiss.”

“So you can’t just admit that the superstition got you and you don’t want to take the chance,” Clark commented, looking smug.

“Shut up, Clark,” Bruce replied.

10, 9, 8

“I’m not complaining,” Clark replied, taking his hand.

5, 4

“Clark.  Just shut up,” Bruce grumbled.

1

Clark pulled Bruce to him and they kissed as “Auld Lang Syne” yet again played in the background.

“I have to go,” Bruce breathed when they pulled apart.

Clark nodded.  “I know.”  Then with a little smile, he added, “Thank you for coming and doing that.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Bruce returned softly.

“Bruce,” Clark began with a smile.  “It is tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> You guys have no idea how much fun I had coming up with the description for what poor Alfred found in the morning.


End file.
